


Helping Hand

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Come as Lube, Dubious Consent, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Incest Kink, Intercrural Sex, Just the Tip, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 06, Size Kink, Step-Brothers, Step-Sibling Incest, Top Shiro (Voltron), Touch-Starved Keith (Voltron), Touch-Starved Shiro (Voltron), Trust Kink, Virgin Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24200140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: After Shiro returns to his body, Allura suggests that he'll need time to adjust and will need to be mindful and purposeful with the touch he experiences. It will help him remember.Keith, being the good step-brother that he is, takes it upon himself to help Shiro get used to touch. That's what good brothers do, right? Right?Things escalate.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 107
Kudos: 385





	Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatsjustHoneyDewbabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsjustHoneyDewbabe/gifts).



> Request fic written for [Emmy](https://twitter.com/shirosfatchest), who requested step-brothers sheith escalating on physical affection after s6. (Someone in this fic doesn't know what romantic vs. brotherly love is. Spoilers: it's Keith.) 
> 
> Regarding the **(Mildly) Dubious Consent** tag: I don't know if it applies here but I decided to tag it just in case. If you'd like "spoilers" for the context, hit "more notes" to skip down to the end notes.
> 
> Thank you to [Cy](https://twitter.com/cyborgtopus) for reading this over for me.

“The soul will need time to adjust,” Allura explains to Shiro and Keith several vargas after Shiro’s woken up from the deep soul-sleep. Keith’s hand rests on Shiro’s thigh, the other at his back, keeping him upright as Allura slides her fingertips against Shiro’s temples, using whatever ancient magic that resides within her to ensure that Shiro is stable and safe. 

Shiro, Allura warns, will have to center himself on what he remembers about his body. 

“Time has passed,” she says, “but our bodies remember what we once were. Even if the mind forgets.” 

Shiro must be mindful, then. He must be purposeful with his body. 

“Do what you remember,” Allura says, “and be aware of the movement. Be aware of how the universe interacts with your body, how your soul is an extension of that.” 

Shiro nods once, quiet, and leans into Keith’s side, his cheek resting against his shoulder. It’s clear that Keith’s brother is tired and it’s understandable, after everything. Keith doesn’t mind bearing that weight. 

“How are you feeling?” Keith asks in a low murmur once Allura casts them one last smile and retreats to the Blue Lion, leaving the two of them to rest. 

“Everything is loud,” Shiro admits in a little voice. “Really bright. And— ha, I never realized the Black Lion had a smell. But I can smell her.” 

“What does she smell like?” 

“Too much,” Shiro says, his tone apologetic, as if Black might be insulted. Keith hears her in the back of his mind, a slow swirl of ancient sentience, but she doesn’t seem insulted by Shiro’s assessment. Only concerned. 

Shiro is strong. He’s always been strong. Keith knows he’s lucky: Shiro doesn’t show vulnerability to many and Keith is one of the few he trusts with his weaknesses. Admitting the mere concept of _too much_ seems to overwhelm Shiro. He sits in silence as Keith nods and moves carefully around him. He takes extra time to strip Shiro’s armor down and peel off his undersuit, enough to expose the heavy metal casing on his chewed-up shoulder. 

Keith does the best he can to clean and dress his wounds, what little is left that the healing pod didn’t prioritize while focusing on stabilizing his very soul. Shiro’s entire body looks like a dull yellow-blue bruise. Even breathing looks painful, although it doesn’t show on Shiro’s face. 

Shiro shivers whenever Keith lays his hands on him. The first time, he apologizes for it. “Touch, too,” Shiro confesses, bowing his head. “It’s… a lot.” 

“But does it help?” Keith asks. 

Shiro nods, unable to voice the actual request. But Keith knows Shiro and he hears it: _Touch me, please_. Keith climbs up beside him and wraps both his arms around Shiro then, letting his brother shudder apart.

“It’s okay,” Keith whispers in his ear and the ghost of his breath makes Shiro tremble. 

It reminds Keith of years ago, years so distant now— he remembers when they were kids. Keith used to always look forward to the every-other-weekend of Shiro’s visits. Shiro’s dad would drop him off, leaving Shiro to his visit with his mom, his stepdad and his stepbrother. Keith nearly vibrated out of his skin the week leading up to Shiro’s visits, so eager to spend time with his brother. 

Keith loved having a brother. A big brother all for himself. He loved Shiro then just as he loves Shiro now. 

And Keith remembers the nightmares. Keith used to get them all the time as a kid— dreams of clashing swords and lions roaring. Dreams that he now realizes must have been the Blue Lion calling out to him, quintessence and magic millennia-old deep in the hills of his childhood. 

At the time, though, when Keith was young and afraid, they were night terrors. And only his stepbrother could make him feel better. He’d crawl into Shiro’s bed at night, inching in and cuddling up. Sometimes Shiro would wake up and they would talk. Other times, Shiro would just roll onto his side with a sleepy mumble and pull Keith into his arms, curling around him protectively even in his sleep. 

In the morning, once Shiro woke up, he’d always smile at Keith. _Hey you,_ he’d say, _Where’d you come from?_ It was their joke. It always made Keith feel protected. Welcomed. Wanted. 

Keith rubs Shiro’s back now and hears the rattle of his gasp. “Too much?” 

“Perfect,” Shiro says. “It’s— it helps.” 

Keith keeps doing it. He sweeps his hands down Shiro, just the thin layer of his undersuit separating skin on skin. He rubs the heel of his palm against Shiro’s back, tracing his spine and pressing gently against his shoulders. It’s not quite a massage but Keith takes his time to touch every inch of Shiro’s back and shoulders and neck, not pausing until he hears Shiro sigh. 

Keith pulls away enough to study Shiro’s face. His eyes are shut, expression lax. He’s handsome, Keith thinks, but he’s really always thought that. It’s just the objective truth that Keith’s always known: no one is as handsome as his brother. 

Keith takes his time, dragging his hands over Shiro’s shoulders in the tenderest brush, his eyes tracing Shiro’s face. The slope of his nose, the gentle fan of his eyelashes. Up close, Keith can see that some of them are dappled starlight-white, quintessence-touched just like his eyebrows, a mix of dark and white. His hair is fully white now, and it’s different, but Keith thinks he likes it— it’s Shiro, proof that Shiro is alive. Shiro was always starlight to Keith. 

“We should lie down,” Keith says after a long moment, dragging his eyes away from his brother’s handsome face. “So you can rest.”

Shiro doesn’t protest, so Keith guides him to lie out on the Black Lion’s bunk. It takes a little adjusting to make room for them both, especially when Keith isn’t willing to unhook his arms from around Shiro, but they manage. 

As soon as they’re settled, Keith wriggles in closer and cuddles Shiro in, cradling him. 

“Reminds me of when we were kids,” Keith says.

Shiro huffs the lightest breath, his mouth slipping into a nostalgic curve. He doesn’t say anything in response though and instead just slowly relaxes in Keith’s arms. 

It’s just as well. Keith can focus on touching Shiro. It will help. It’ll help bring him back into his body. It’s what a good brother would do, after all. 

He rubs Shiro’s back and works his way up, kneading the back of his neck and then scrubbing his fingers up into his hair. He follows the gulps of air Shiro takes to determine the pressure— not too soft as to be torture but not too firm as to be painful for a freshly resurrected body. 

Every pass of his hands on him makes Shiro shiver, trembling in Keith’s hold. Keith nearly wants to cry from the relief of simply holding Shiro like this. After everything they’ve been through, after everything they’ve done to save each other— it’s reassuring to know that Shiro is here, that he’s in Keith’s arms. 

He's never going to let Shiro go again. Never. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Keith whispers into his hair.

Shiro’s eyes shut, that same fanning of his pretty eyelashes, and his smile is sweet if sad. “I’m sorry I was gone at all.” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Keith says, quick to reassure. Shiro hums but Keith isn’t sure if it’s agreement or simply acknowledgement of Keith’s words. He circles his fingers against Shiro’s scalp, swirling little patterns through his hair. “Shiro,” he says. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Shiro shifts closer. Keith curls his body around him, protective and nearly possessive. The world can’t have Shiro. The universe doesn’t get to have him, not this time. He’s only Keith’s. 

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says. 

“No,” Keith says, burying his nose in Shiro’s hair, bowed over the crown of his head. “You never need to apologize to me, Shiro.” His hands skate across Shiro’s skin, present and warm beneath his fingertips. “If you’re here, that’s all I need.” 

The tension feels electric, somehow, although Keith doesn’t know why. He hears Shiro swallow as he shifts towards Keith. Keith is quiet as he pulls Shiro deeper into his embrace, pressing against him. Shiro is so quiet now, so still and uncertain. Keith doesn’t know how long it’ll take him to recover in his body, to know that he’s here, that Keith brought him home. But he’ll be here, no matter how long it takes. 

He smiles to himself. As many times as it takes. 

He rubs Shiro’s back. He lets all his love and devotion pour into the simple touch. They’re family. He’ll do everything he can to protect Shiro like this. To help. 

“This is nice,” Shiro mumbles, sounding almost sleepy.

“Yeah,” Keith agrees. “It really does remind me of when we were kids.” 

Shiro makes a soft sound, his shoulders tightening. Keith rubs at them again, massaging slowly. The tension doesn’t quite ease, but it just gives Keith something to do that can be helpful. He rubs the heels of his palms against Shiro’s shoulders, his fingers tracing along the strong edge of Shiro’s body. 

His brother is so strong. 

“You still remember all that, huh?” Shiro finally asks. 

“Don’t you?” Keith laughs. “Those were… probably the happiest years of my life.” Maybe he should be embarrassed to admit it, but it’s the truth. “Well. Before we met again at the Garrison, anyway. That was a good year.”

“It was,” Shiro says. 

“But I always loved when you visited your mom,” Keith says. He looks up, half-expecting the glow-in-the-dark stars Shiro would stick to the ceiling of his childhood bedroom for him to be here on the Black Lion, too. “God, I always looked forward to seeing you.” 

Maybe it should be weird to him that he remembers more about his time with Shiro than with his stepmom, considering she lived with Keith and his dad. Shiro could only visit when joint-custody between his parents allowed it. 

Shiro was always _brother_ then. His pop was always Pop. Shiro’s mom was always— Shiro’s mom, or Pop’s wife. Keith never actually called her mom, only ever by her name. But she was kind and he remembers her fondly, of course. She was no evil stepmom and she loved Shiro and cared for Keith. But it felt too reverential to ever call her _mom_. 

Shiro, though. Shiro was always _Keith’s big brother._ Never really stepbrother. It felt closer than that, infinitely closer. Shiro was Keith’s everything. 

It’s his time with Shiro he remembers best. It’s the memories of Shiro that kept him afloat all those years with his foster families where he was surrounded by supposed brothers and sisters but never felt that same connection as he did with Shiro. His true brother. 

_Little duckling,_ his Pop used to joke when Keith would follow Shiro around the house, holding onto his shirt to keep him from escaping his grasp. _You going to follow Takashi around all day?_

If Keith could have gotten away with it, he would have. Shiro never seemed to mind. Sometimes, he’d hold Keith’s hand as they wandered the house, playing games and laughing together. Sometimes, he’d let Keith tangle their fingers until they were laced. 

They’d spend the entire weekend together having fun, until Sunday night when Shiro would return to his father’s home. But that weekend was always amazing— running out in the backyard trying to catch lizards together, building pillow-forts and watching old vids on a telescreen, board games on the porch, freshly made lemonade staining their lips and fingers sticky with the lemons they squeezed. He remembers scrapes and bruises and how Shiro would kiss each bandaid to help Keith feel better about the pain. He remembers looking at Shiro’s grinning face as they struggled to build a mini-engine together, and thinking, _I want to be with you forever._

A silly thought. They’re brothers. They’ll always be brothers— forever. They have forever.

“Is this helping?” Keith asks as he rubs at Shiro’s shoulder.

“So much, Keith,” Shiro says. 

Keith hums, pleased. He cuddles up, wishing he could absorb into Shiro’s skin and protect him always, help him relax and make him feel good. Allura did say that touch is supposed to help. 

Everything must be so overwhelming for Shiro. 

And Keith— Keith wants to be a good brother. 

“Should I touch you more?” Keith asks. “Maybe it’ll help. If you’re supposed to get used to things again.”

“Maybe,” Shiro says but he sounds uncertain.

“Only if you want,” Keith says, quick to reassure. “We can go slow. Take it as slow as you need, Shiro.” He draws away from the hug enough to look up at Shiro, smiling. He touches his cheek, his fingers tracing across his jaw. “What matters is I’m here. And I’ll do anything you want.”

Shiro’s quiet, a little still for too long, before he forces himself to breathe. “Keith…” 

“I want to help you,” Keith says. “Whatever you need.” 

Shiro’s smile returns then, a slow unfurling thing. His eyes are soft, far too gentle. “You were always too kind to me, Keith.”

“Bullshit.” 

That makes Shiro laugh, a startled sound. His eyes are softer when he looks at Keith again, the way he always looks at Keith. It never fails to reassure Keith, really, when Shiro looks at him like that. How no matter how many loved ones he’s lost, Shiro has always been there. Shiro, his brother, who’s always loved him like a brother, too. It’s the most reassuring feeling in the world. 

And right now, all Keith wants to do is help his brother. Touch him. 

Really, if Keith’s honest, he always wants to touch Shiro. He’s not ashamed of that. 

“Is this good?” Keith asks.

“Yes,” Shiro says. 

So Keith strokes his fingers over Shiro’s face. He ghosts across his cheek, letting his fingers drag. Shiro’s eyes flicker and then fall shut again. He leans into Keith’s touch and Keith takes the permission to explore. 

“Just focus on how I’m touching you,” Keith says. Centering, Allura had said. 

“Yes,” Shiro says again. 

Keith lets his fingers skim across Shiro’s jaw, thumbs swiping over his cheeks. He slides down the gentle slope of his nose, tapping once at the very tip. It makes Shiro’s mouth flicker with an almost-smile. Keith traces his thumb over each eyebrow, then brushes the hair from his forehead. 

Shiro takes a deep breath when Keith’s fingers swirl at his chin, then pet up towards his ears. Keith lets his hands drift back, playing with Shiro’s hair again. It’s peaceful, all smooth touches. Shiro relaxes in increments. 

As Shiro’s expression eases, the tension leaves his face. Keith cups his cheeks with both hands and holds. He lets his thumbs glide back and forth over his cheekbones. He presses his fingertips against the sharp line of Shiro’s jaw. It feels easy to touch his brother like this, to hold him tenderly in his hands. 

He dashes over Shiro’s nose again, then the curve of his cupid’s bow. He traces Shiro’s mouth, featherlight enough that the damp hush of Shiro breathing comes in a little sharper. 

“Too much?” Keith asks.

“No,” Shiro says, his voice wisping against Keith’s fingers. It makes Keith shiver, as if he’s the one who isn’t used to touch. 

And maybe he’s not. He’s never touched anyone like this before. It feels appropriate that it’d be his brother— that Shiro would be the only one he could trust with this. And Keith, then, the only one Shiro would trust in turn. 

“It’s fine?” Keith asks again, just to be sure.

“Yes, Keith,” Shiro says. He opens his eyes— his eyes that same sweet grey, but something molten there as he looks at Keith. “It’s okay.”

His lips move to form the words, Keith’s fingers hovering between them close enough that he can just barely brush Shiro’s mouth. He feels the heat of his body, all that proof that he’s alive. 

Keith inhales for a steadying moment and traces one finger over Shiro’s top lip, following its gentle curve. Shiro’s lips part, just slightly, around his sigh. 

Keith touches Shiro’s bottom lip. The weight of his fingers plump it down into a pout, just the slightest drag of skin on skin before it pops free again. Keith doesn’t know why he’s holding his breath when he does it again, slower this time. 

Shiro’s eyes waver and then fall shut again. Keith lets his fingers linger before he drops them away, pressing against Shiro’s chin. 

Shiro licks his lips after that, just a quick dart of his tongue. Keith watches the little flash of it across his bottom lip. 

Somehow, he can’t stop looking at Shiro’s mouth. 

Keith reminds himself to breathe. Shiro’s face is relaxed, eyes closed, his lips parted. Keith just studies him, watching the rise and fall of his chest, watching the slight blush rise on his cheeks and kiss the tops of his ears. 

Keith’s eyes dart back down to Shiro’s mouth. 

He lifts his hand, just enough to let his thumb swipe across Shiro’s lips, feeling that slight dampness from Shiro’s mouth as it ghosts Keith’s skin. He feels the moment it stops, too, as Shiro stills beneath Keith’s attention. 

He always loved Shiro’s smile best. When they were kids, while at the Garrison, out in space. It didn’t matter. It was always the best sight in the world, all the better when Keith was the reason for it. 

“Shiro,” he hears himself saying, his fingers pressed against Shiro’s bottom lip. “Do you need more?”

“More?” Shiro asks, his lips pursing and parting around the single word. It’s mesmerizing. Keith’s never looked so carefully before. 

“I can give you more,” Keith says softly. “Whatever you need.”

Shiro’s quiet for so long, his lips pressing against Keith’s fingertips. He takes a deep breath, opening his eyes to look at Keith. “You can do whatever you want, Keith,” he says, voice quiet. “… Whatever you think will help.” 

Keith nods as he moves closer. Just the slightest shift. He knows Shiro feels it, hears the hum of a question as Keith bridges the space between them. Keith stares at Shiro’s mouth for a moment too long before he tears his eyes away. 

He’s quiet as he changes trajectory, pressing a kiss to Shiro’s cheek. Even that makes Shiro suck in a sharp, rattling lungful. Keith lingers, eyes closed, his lips pressed to Shiro’s flushed cheek. His nose bumps against Shiro’s skin. A slip of Keith’s hair dislodges from behind his ear and ghosts against Shiro’s face. 

“Okay?” Keith asks.

Shiro gives the littlest nod and Keith moves to kiss his other cheek. He lingers, then swings up to kiss his forehead, then his nose. His heart is pounding, somehow fighting the urge to kiss his mouth. Keith swallows, shifting and pressing a gentle kiss against the curve of Shiro’s jaw. 

Shiro isn’t breathing. He holds himself still as Keith presses a small trail of kisses down his jaw. This is fine, Keith thinks. It’s not a big deal— he’s helping his brother, and it feels good to help him. 

He pecks Shiro’s chin and then draws away. Shiro’s watching him closely, studying his every move, and Keith meets his eyes and holds that gaze. 

They kissed as kids once. Keith remembers it. He remembers camping in the backyard with Shiro, a makeshift tent that barely kept the desert chill out. Keith squirmed around in his sleeping bag, wiggling like a worm because he knew it made Shiro laugh. He remembers wishing on a star, then creeping towards Shiro. 

He remembers that he didn’t even think about it. He just leaned in and kissed Shiro. It was an innocent brush of lips then, just between brothers. Shiro had squeaked, shocked, and then giggled when Keith teased him for the sound. It’d felt normal, like they’d just been waiting for their chance to do that. 

Keith’s eyes drop down to Shiro’s mouth again. He hears Shiro inhale deeply. His lips part. 

If it’s about centering Shiro’s body, Keith thinks, then— 

If it’s about reminding the body of what it’s experienced before, then surely it’s fine. It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’s what brothers do. 

Keith shifts closer, just the slightest change. It’s a tentative kiss, barely a touch at all. Just a brush of his lips against Shiro’s. The softest drag. Innocent, like that night in the backyard. 

Shiro gasps, shocked, and jerks. “Keith—?” 

“Did I hurt you?” Keith asks, his voice sounding so hushed. He drags his eyes away from Shiro’s mouth. 

Keith can’t explain the way his heart starts galloping. The truth is: he’s never kissed anyone since that night. He can’t really call that his first kiss, and this is hardly a kiss, either. 

But it’s important now. He needs to have Shiro close— to help him, yes, Keith thinks. But there’s something reassuring in feeling Shiro’s breath against his lips, too. Maybe he needs this just as much as Shiro. 

“No, I—” Shiro stops, the words fumbling across his tongue. He licks his lips and it drags Keith’s attention back to his mouth. Shiro bites his lip then, and that’s somehow worse to see the flash of his teeth drag across the swell of his bottom lip. 

“No?”

“No,” Shiro says. “I…” 

“Let me help you,” Keith says. “If, if you need to get used to touch again, then—” 

Shiro’s fingers glance at his own mouth, still looking a little startled. His cheeks are pinker than before. Keith wants to kiss his cheeks again, to chase the deepening blush up to his ears. 

“You… you want to kiss me?” Shiro asks. 

“Is that bad?” 

Shiro blinks at him, still looking a little stunned. It’s a fuzzy-at-the-edges kind of look, like Shiro’s not quite in his body yet. Everything feels too uncertain, like Shiro might start to flicker away if Keith can’t find a way to anchor him. 

He looks ethereal like that, everything so silver. His hair, his eyelashes, his eyes. 

Keith touches him again, letting his thumb drag slowly across his bottom lip. Shiro shivers against it, the softest exhalation from his lungs ghosting against the pad of Keith’s thumb. 

“Is it bad?” Keith asks again. He watches the way his finger traces over Shiro’s mouth. He presses in, feeling the slide of his lip, just a breath away from pushing into his mouth. 

Shiro shakes his head, a barely-there gesture. 

“I think it’s fine,” Keith says in a quiet voice. “Kissing’s okay.” He knows he must sound eager, and he can’t explain where that need comes from. He watches the way Shiro’s throat works as he swallows. “It’s just kissing, Shiro.” 

“Just…”

“It’ll help,” Keith says. “It’s not— it doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’s just us. Between brothers.” 

Shiro pauses. Then he laughs, although it’s not quite a humorous sound. “Right.” 

“It’s just kissing,” Keith says and cups his brother’s cheek. 

“Just kissing,” Shiro echoes. Keith holds himself still, waiting. Shiro takes a moment to just be, then Keith watches his eyes drop down to look at Keith’s lips. 

Keith leans in a little closer. “Yeah… Just kissing.” 

Shiro slants his mouth against Keith’s. It’s less of a brush this time and more purposeful. Shiro makes the softest sound when they kiss and Keith chases it, determined to make Shiro feel everything, to get used to even these simple touches. He skirts his thumb across Shiro’s cheek as he pillows his lips gently. Slow and careful. Just his lips. No tongue, just the drag of his mouth against Shiro’s. 

Shiro lets Keith take the lead, but Keith’s never kissed someone before. Not really. He’s not sure if kissing once when they were kids can really count. Uncertainty bubbles inside him as he pecks Shiro’s lips, drawing away only to push back in for another peck. It feels too juvenile. He can’t imagine it’s anywhere near enough to help center Shiro. 

But it’s a start and maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s better for Shiro this way, to feel the inexperienced kiss pressed against his mouth. Keith uses the sounds he makes as a guide, softening the caress of their lips until he hears Shiro sigh against them. 

It’s a good sound. And the kiss is good, most of all. It’s centering for Keith, too. He grounds himself on the feeling of his brother’s lips against his. 

Keith exhales, his hands straying down Shiro’s throat and over his chest. His heart quivers against his ribs, his body warm and thrumming with the need to have Shiro closer. It’s always so hard to be separated from Shiro. All the more so now. All Keith wants to do is keep Shiro near, to have Shiro safe in his arms. 

They’ve spent far too much time apart. 

They break the kiss slowly, like a wave receding. Keith lingers, eager to feel the puff of breath from Shiro’s lips, the heat radiating off him. Proof that he’s alive. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers.

Keith opens his eyes and looks up at Shiro, meeting his gaze. Shiro swallows, his eyes half-lidded and lips parted. He looks like his world’s been rocked onto a whole new axis. 

Maybe it’s strange. Keith doesn’t know and he doesn’t particularly care, either. He and Shiro have always been close, even despite everything that’s tried to keep them apart. They’re not like other brothers and that’s okay. They can do this and it’s okay. 

It’s just kissing. It’s just helping his brother. 

“Did that help?” Keith manages to ask, his voice sounding far too wispy and just a bit hoarse. His hand’s still on Shiro’s cheek, feeling the warmth of his blush. 

Shiro nods after a pause.

“Do you… want to again?” Keith asks and knows he sounds eager. 

Shiro shifts, scooting across the bunk. Keith squirms, legs parting just slightly to make room for him. He tilts his body up to Shiro as Shiro moves in. And Keith waits for Shiro to kiss him again. When Shiro hesitates, eyes flickering, Keith makes the softest sound. 

“It’s okay,” he says. He traces his fingers down Shiro’s jaw. “It’s just kissing, Shiro.”

“Just kissing,” Shiro agrees in a low whisper, looking conflicted. But he still leans in. 

They kiss like that, slow and unhurried. Keith takes a breath and presses closer. Another peck. A second one. It’s not enough. 

Keith leans away with a sigh and tugs Shiro down with him. He spreads himself out on the bunk, settling beneath Shiro and pulling him over on top of him. Once settled, he smiles up at his brother. 

Shiro is a perfect weight on him, heavy but welcomed.

“Yeah, this is better.”

“It is?” Shiro asks. 

Keith nods. “Is this helping?” 

He touches Shiro’s face again, stroking his cheekbone in a slow swipe of his thumb. 

Shiro pauses, hesitating, and then nods tentatively. Almost too quietly he asks, “It’s… helping you, too?”

Keith nods. “I think so? I mean… you know.” He bites his lip. “I mean— remember? It’d… Sometimes I just wanted to be held. So I could sleep well.” 

“I remember,” Shiro says. His smile is small, uncertain but sweet. “You’d come sneaking into my room.” 

Keith nods again. Those years feel so far away now— muddled in the way only distance can make it. It used to hurt, to think about forgetting so much about his dad, about his stepmom and his stepbrother. He doesn’t remember the sound of his stepmom’s voice, but he remembers Shiro. 

He remembers those nights with the nightmares. Remembers that Shiro never once shoved Keith from his bed. He only ever scooted aside to make room for him. They’d sleep with their arms and legs tangled together. It was always better like that. Keith always slept best when he was with Shiro. 

When Shiro went away, that hurt too much to bear. Keith was too young then. He didn’t know how to stay in touch, how to have what he needed. He didn’t even know how to ask for it. 

Shiro holds himself above Keith, his one arm trembling. Keith hums and then rolls them so that they’re lying side by side, facing one another. His touch is slow when he finds Shiro’s hand and guides him to wrap his arm around Keith. 

“Yeah,” Keith says. “I remember it all, too. So… it feels like that now, just getting to hold you.” 

He presses another peck to Shiro’s lips to punctuate the words. It feels so much like when they were kids— safe, protected. He remembers lying together with Shiro in a bed too small for them, Shiro’s arms wrapped around him. Just like now, the steady weight of Shiro’s arm around him, the way his chest swells with breath and presses against Keith’s. 

Keith’s heart quivers in his chest. He’s trembling when he kisses the corner of Shiro’s mouth, then slides it down to press against his, just another simple peck. Nothing deep, only an innocent love for his brother. 

Shiro is pressed so close to him. Their hips are so close together. He could sling his leg around Shiro’s thighs and bring him in further still. He could press flushed against Shiro, chest to chest, thighs to thighs, hips to hips. 

Kissing. They’re just kissing, though. And that’s okay. Kissing is good and it’s not a big deal— it’s not anything strange and it’s something they both want. 

They’re close, after all, they’ve always been close. They’re brothers. 

“Just focus on how it feels,” Keith says, brushing his lips at the other corner of Shiro’s mouth. He presses a constellation of kisses across Shiro’s face, dotting his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Shiro holds still as he does, gentle, his eyes closed. 

“I am,” Shiro says. His mouth twitches with a smile, which just means Keith has to kiss him again just for that curve of his mouth. Shiro breathes out, lips pressed to Keith’s, “I always focus on you.” 

Keith’s heart leaps at the words, something warm blooming in his chest. He’s not embarrassed by the soft whimper he makes as he cups the back of Shiro’s head and kisses him more firmly, still just a slotting of their lips together. 

“Let me help you,” Keith mumbles against his mouth. 

“Okay,” Shiro says. 

Keith kisses him, slow and tentative at first. It’s a gentle one, just like before— a slide of their mouths together, closed-lipped. Shiro sighs out and there’s something intoxicating about that rush of his breath against Keith’s, the swell of his lip. 

Before Keith’s even fully thought it through, he’s licking at Shiro’s bottom lip. 

Shiro grunts in surprise and tips away from the kiss, blinking at him even as Keith chases after him, wanting to stay connected. Shiro’s silent, simply blinking at him.

Keith blinks back. He bites his lip. He scoots in. “Shiro…” 

“Keith?” Shiro asks in a low murmur, his eyes so dark and so pretty. 

Keith touches Shiro’s chest, his fingertips tracing across his clavicle. He stares at Shiro’s mouth, willing his brother to lean in and kiss him again, to let Keith lick across his lips and into his mouth. 

It feels right. 

He needs to be closer. He _wants_ to be closer. Shiro’s hand presses against his lower back, his fingers splayed like a five-pointed star of contact. It burns against Keith, the thin layer of his undersuit the only thing between him and that touch. 

“Is it okay?” Keith asks. 

Shiro’s eyes flicker down to Keith’s mouth, his lips slightly parted. Keith makes a sound as he watches Shiro lick his lips, that quick dart of his tongue. He wants to taste it. He wants to cradle Shiro near. He wants to help. 

Shiro nods. “It’s okay, but…”

Keith doesn’t wait for him to answer. The words are barely past his brother’s lips before Keith crowds in and kisses him. He laps his tongue against his bottom lip and then presses past, tongue sliding against Shiro’s. Shiro follows his lead, letting out a low groan and kissing him back, sucking on Keith’s tongue. It’s a blissful feeling. Keith might shake apart, triumphant and resplendent in Shiro’s hold. 

It feels so good. Keith whimpers, pleased. They’re brothers. This is what brothers do— they take care of one another. They make each other feel safe and relaxed, protected and safe. He wants that for Shiro. Keith wants to show him that he’s safe now, that Keith’s here— he’ll make sure he’s okay, no matter what. 

Keith’s never kissed someone like this before. It’s appropriate that it’s Shiro— who else could he trust with this? He’s clumsy at first, all tongue and no finesse, but he knows Shiro wouldn’t hate him for it. 

Shiro’s lips part to him and Keith licks in deeper, whimpering, creeping as close as he can manage. Keith is sloppy in his attempts, fingers curled tight in the front of Shiro’s undersuit to keep him tethered there. But Shiro only groans as the kiss deepens. 

Keith gasps. The sound punches out of him before he can stop it. But it feels good to make the sound, the way Shiro shivers beneath his hands. He sucks on Shiro’s bottom lip, laving his tongue slowly, tugging it between his teeth to cajole Shiro in.

It takes a little coaxing, but Keith’s sigh is blissful once Shiro licks into his mouth, too. He mimics Shiro then, sucking on Shiro’s tongue, giggling and eager to feel him. He’s all bubbly inside, like he might just start to float away at any moment. It’s only Shiro’s sure, steady hand on the small of his back that keeps him stable there. 

“Shiro,” Keith whimpers, dragging his teeth across his lip, then licking over it in an apologetic swipe. 

Keith feels the distance between them shrink in increments. Little by little. With every press of his mouth to Shiro’s, Shiro shifts closer, his hand flexing in the small of Keith’s back. 

The absurd thought coils inside him— how easy it’d be for Shiro to slide his hand down and cup Keith’s ass. Or another thought: that if Keith were to drift his hips forward, he’d press fully against Shiro. 

The thoughts curl inside him as he opens his mouth to Shiro’s tongue and it’s in that moment that he realizes he’s half-hard in his undersuit. It’s a strange thought, coalescing slowly as if moving through water. He feels pliant and relaxed just from the gentle weight of Shiro’s hand on him, the slide and press of their mouths together.

Keith can’t recall the last time he felt this relaxed. He can feel Shiro’s breath. He can feel the beat of his heart. Keith squirms in, tucking his knee between Shiro’s legs— teasing, almost. Not yet ready to bridge that gap but wanting it. 

Who else could make him feel like this but Shiro? Closer. He just wants to be closer. 

His knee slides up, just a little. 

Shiro’s hand on his back slides up, slowly, as if in conscious effort. Keith’s so comfortable like this, held so gently. It feels like safety. He shivers at the way Shiro’s palm skates up his spine, how it settles at the back of his neck.

The weight of it is possessive in its own way. Shiro leans in, kissing him deeper, and Keith whispers out his name in a pleading gasp. He opens his mouth to Shiro. He lets Shiro take whatever it is he wants. He could do this with Shiro for ages. 

But instead of doing that, Shiro breaks the kiss and draws back, leaving Keith gulping down air. He’s cosmically aware of all the places they touch— Shiro’s hand on the nape of his neck, Keith’s on his chest, knee between his brother’s legs. His cock stirs, just a little, as he stares at Shiro’s kiss-swollen lips, pink and wet from Keith’s tongue. 

“This is nice,” Keith says and smiles. 

Shiro laughs, his smile gentle but his shoulders still slightly tense. There’s a nervousness to him that Keith can’t quite place. He strokes his hand over Shiro’s cheek, along his jaw, and down his neck. Shiro closes his eyes, exhaling. 

“It’s okay,” Keith tells him. 

He knows what others might say— that he shouldn’t kiss his brother like this. But if it’s helping, it can’t be wrong. Shiro is the person he trusts most in this universe. In any universe. It’s not even a question. 

“Keith,” Shiro says. 

A shiver runs down Keith’s spine. He’s sure Shiro must notice it. Shiro says his name again and Keith only hums in response, his hand ghosting down Shiro’s arm and tucking into his elbow. He holds tight. 

“Is this helping?” Keith asks. 

“Mm,” Shiro hums and it makes Keith’s dick twitch, the sound of it vibrating through the full length of Keith’s body. “You’re right,” Shiro says, voice so low and honey-warm that Keith nearly melts. “This is nice, Keith.” 

Keith trembles and Shiro shifts back, expression flickering. But Keith shakes his head and pulls him back in again. He’s not shaking for any sort of fear or any sort of overwhelmed feeling. 

He’s helping. 

“More, please,” Keith begs, already tipping his chin up to meet Shiro’s lips. 

They kiss again, slower and deeper this time. Shiro sighs as he licks into Keith’s mouth and Keith shivers again, opening to him. It’s luxurious to feel Shiro all around him, to swallow his air and his tongue, to hear Shiro’s soft gasp as they kiss. 

Shiro murmurs Keith’s name, licking at his bottom lip and then, so gently, letting his teeth drag. That action alone punches a moan loose from Keith. 

Shiro pauses, surprised by the sound. But then, so carefully, he bites at Keith’s lip. 

Keith moans again, helpless in Shiro’s hold. “Shiro—” 

Shiro sucks gently on his bottom lip, dragging him in closer. 

Keith’s throbbing in his undersuit now, his cock hard and straining beneath the fabric. He wants. He can’t recall ever wanting Shiro like this, and maybe that’s wrong— to want his brother. But it doesn’t feel strange to Keith, somehow: it feels inevitable. There was always this same warm, pleasant warmth building in his gut whenever he knew Shiro was coming to visit for the weekend. Or, finding him again at the Garrison, how easily they fell into their routine once they were reunited. Shiro _saved_ him. 

His brother makes him feel warm. Makes him feel wanted. 

Keith remembers plenty of nights in the Garrison, lying on his stomach in his bunk, squirming his hips forward to thrust his cock against the mattress, always imagining a faceless fantasy, of lips against his, hands tucked in all the secret parts of him. He’d come with a gasp of breath, warmed all over. 

It’d be so easy, Keith thinks, to rock his hips forward and press his cock against Shiro’s. He thinks that Shiro would let him. 

Keith breaks the kiss with a little whimper. He’s too big for his body. He wants everything at once. He wants Shiro all over. If just a touch can help, if just a kiss can help, then—

Keith inches closer and presses a tentative kiss to Shiro’s jaw. Shiro sucks in sharply but holds still as Keith nuzzles down his neck. They’ve already kissed. Doing this isn’t a big deal either, he figures. He licks a wet stripe over the tendon in Shiro’s neck. 

There’s a burst of warmth in his chest that slides downward, his cock twitching again as he mouths at Shiro’s throat, tasting him, dragging his lips over his skin. 

Shiro groans. His hand flexes where it cups Keith’s shoulder, tentatively drawing him in. The touch feels good. It makes Keith shiver again. He wonders if it’s possible to tremble apart like this, if Shiro’s touch alone might be enough to set him on fire. 

Maybe he can come just from this, just the need to be with Shiro, the pride in knowing he’s helping him in a way that no one else can. No one else but Keith. No one but Shiro’s brother. 

The thought makes him writhe. He shifts forward, pressing against Shiro. He feels the pinpricks of desire shoot up his spine. He rolls his hips slow, his cock dragging against Shiro’s body. He thinks Shiro might be hard, too. 

Shiro moans again, biting down hard on his lip as he rocks forward to meet Keith. His hips slot against Keith’s, finding that space together. 

Yes, Keith thinks as Shiro presses against him. Definitely hard. 

Shiro looks surprised by the movements, his eyes so beautifully dark as Keith grinds his hips. Shiro lets out a wispy, punched-out groan as Keith slides closer. Shiro’s _huge_ , he can feel it through their clothes, can feel the shadow of it— so much bigger than Keith. 

Shiro blinks down at him, face flushed and lips parted as they roll together. Keith thinks of getting his hand on that big dick, on seeing it. His thoughts feel too distant but somehow he manages to remember that touching Shiro is the whole point— and surely his fingers around his dick will help? 

Keith lets out a soft coo, the whine easing out of him before he can swallow it back. “It’s okay,” he says. He rolls forward. “Shiro…”

“Keith.” 

Shiro runs his hand down Keith’s back and it’s both soothing and invigorating. Keith can’t help his answering wriggle.

“I— maybe it’ll be better if we’re even closer,” Keith murmurs, his voice snagged between begging and desire. He _wants_. “Maybe it will help.” 

Shiro blinks at him, his cheeks flushed. “What do you mean?”

Keith’s hands curl against Shiro’s back. He rocks his hips forward again, still feeling that pinprick of pleasure at the rigid line of Shiro’s cock against his, tragically separated by their undersuits. 

“The suits,” Keith says. “If they’re gone—” 

Shiro stares at him, eyes wide. Then he blushes deeper still, his entire face red. “K- Keith—” 

“Just to the chest,” Keith says. “For now. That’s okay, right?” 

Shiro blinks at him, looking shell-shocked. Keith slides his hands down Shiro’s chest. He can feel the planes of his muscles, the whisper of his nipples beneath his fingertips. He wants to drag his hands all over him. He licks his lips.

“I think it might help,” Keith says. “It’ll help you. If we can feel each other.” He looks up at Shiro, panting, face flushed. “I need to help your body remember. Won’t skin on skin be better?” 

“Oh,” Shiro says. He swallows, his expression wavering as he looks at Keith. His eyes are so dark, his gaze like a touch itself as he studies Keith’s face. Keith licks his lips and watches Shiro’s eyes trace the movement. 

Keith holds his ground, fingers curling just slightly. He can imagine how good it’ll feel to touch Shiro’s body, skin to skin. He can’t explain the need that fuels him onward. It’s love, yes, it’s the need to protect Shiro. To make Shiro feel better. To help him get there. 

“Keith,” Shiro says again. “M… yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

He'll protect Shiro, no matter what. He’ll do whatever he can. He’ll do whatever any brother should. 

“Yeah?” Keith asks. “If it’s not too much…” 

“No,” Shiro says. “No, it’s okay,” Shiro murmurs, sounding breathless, anticipating. He drags his hand up Keith’s back and tugs on the zipper at the back of his neck, easing it down. “You don’t mind?”

“No,” Keith says. “It feels nice.” 

“Okay.” 

Keith tugs on Shiro’s zipper, too, helping to peel the undersuit off. He exposes Shiro inch by inch, tracing his eyes over each scar. His hand reaches out to touch his chest once he’s done, fingertips on a scar, then the slope of his pectoral. He thumbs at one of Shiro’s nipples and watches his chest swell with a brief inhale. 

“Is that good?” Keith asks. He thumbs at Shiro’s brown nipple, mesmerized by the feel of it. 

“It feels nice,” Shiro says and sounds like he might start sobbing. “I’ve— it’s been a long time since I’ve felt _anything._ ” 

Something twists sharp in Keith’s chest. He looks up at Shiro, afraid that he’ll look ethereal again, like he might start to fade away. But his expression is only one of relief, one of desire. 

Keith drags his hand more purposefully across Shiro’s chest. Making sure that Shiro feels it, too.

“Just focus on me,” Keith says.

Shiro chuckles, soft and to himself. He doesn’t elaborate on whatever the joke is, but he does sigh and sink forward against Keith’s palm. Keith can feel the pound of his heart beneath that hardening nipple. “Yeah, Keith,” he says. “You’re here.”

“I am,” Keith agrees. “I’m helping?”

“Yes,” Shiro says. 

Keith smiles. He feels like he’s glowing. 

He can be a good brother. He can take care of Shiro. That’s all he’s ever wanted to do— take care of him. He wriggles closer, letting his hands drag over Shiro’s skin. He wants to center Shiro. He wants to give Shiro whatever he needs.

He’s a good brother. 

“Just focus on me,” he says again, quieter this time. Shiro has spent so long locked away from his body, stuck in the unseeing astral plane. It makes sense that so much would be overwhelming. 

But Keith’s here.

“Yes, Keith,” Shiro says. 

Keith’s dazed with desire. He presses his hands over Shiro’s chest and lets Shiro tug him in. They’re definitely grinding now in slow little bursts, their hips circling together. He can feel Shiro’s cock twitch, how it grows fully hard under Keith’s attentions. 

And that’s good. It’s good. It means that Keith’s helping. It’s not a big deal— Shiro’s been through so much and this is the least he can do for his brother. This is the very least he can do to make Shiro feel human again. He wants to do this for Shiro. He wants to feel Shiro. 

Shiro’s cock is so _big_. Keith’s dizzy with it and he hasn’t even seen it or felt it fully. He circles his hips, sliding against him and seeking that friction. 

“Does it feel good, Shiro?” 

Shiro nods, moaning weakly as Keith presses kisses down his throat and over his clavicle. He thumbs at Shiro’s nipples. 

Really, it feels like it’s been too long since anyone’s touched Keith, either. There was his mom on the Space Whale, of course, how she’d hug him after he returned from hunting. He’d spend his nights sleeping tucked up against the wolf, using him as a pillow. 

But Shiro. Shiro’s always held him so gently, has always treated him like he’s precious. He still remembers all the nights Shiro’s held him, not just as kids but at the Garrison, too. Even on the Castle of Lions, when nightmares made it too hard for either of them to sleep. 

They’ve always held one another. 

The thought alone makes Keith want to float away again, bubbly and close to bursting. “Shiro,” Keith says, cupping Shiro’s hip as he looks into his eyes. “You’re my brother and I love you.” 

Shiro’s eyes widen then, like he’s been punched. The sound he makes sounds like both heartbreak and relief. Keith watches him go still, stuttering to a halt with their hips pressed together. 

Keith doesn’t know what to make of the reaction. 

But Shiro holds himself still only for a moment before he ducks his head down, hiding his face against Keith’s neck. The tension hitches his shoulders back up again. 

“Yeah, Keith,” Shiro says quietly, his voice too far away. His lips are damp against Keith’s neck. “I know.” 

Keith rubs his back and hums, nosing into the longer ends of Shiro’s hair. He kisses his temple, a little touch meant to anchor him. He loves Shiro. He loves Shiro with everything he is— like a good brother should. 

They grind together like that. Keith can’t breathe for how good it feels, rutting his cock against Shiro’s. There’s just the thin layers of the undersuits between them. 

Everything feels like pinpricks of light and love. In this new body for Shiro, a soul newly returned, it must be near overwhelming. 

Within a few minutes, Shiro’s panting, trembling with the force of the feeling. His cock is so hard against Keith’s, twitching and so reactionary even just from moving like this. 

It should be blissful. But Keith frowns, running his hands over Shiro. He touches every bare inch of his skin, dragging down and bumping back up only once he hits the edge of the undersuit pooled at Shiro’s hips. 

“Is this enough?” Keith asks.

“What?” Shiro sounds so overwhelmed, soundless save for his needy little pants. 

“Maybe…” Keith wriggles his hips. He bites his lip. “You’ve been in your undersuit so long. Do you want to get out of it?” 

That makes Shiro freeze. 

“Keith…” Shiro says, hesitating. 

Keith can understand. Keith doesn’t know what other brothers are like, but Keith’s not an idiot. Brothers don’t tend to strip down and grind against each other. But then again, Keith and Shiro are special. They’re close, so close. That’s a good thing about them. They can trust each other. They can take care of each other. 

Maybe there’s a little thrill to it, too— the forbidden feeling of it. How it’s a secret just between them. Proof that they’re closer than anyone else. 

“I… If you want to be touched,” Keith says. “It might feel better like that.” 

He rocks his hips forward, sliding his cock against Shiro’s, imagines how good it’ll feel once they get the suits off. 

“Just imagine it, Shiro.”

Shiro whimpers then, eyes shutting as a shudder ripples through him. 

“Okay, Keith,” he gasps out after a moment.

“You want that?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Shiro moans. 

Keith leans in and kisses Shiro again as his hands fist around Shiro’s undersuit, helping to ease the clingy fabric off over his hips, exposing him. It’s torture to lean his hips away and untangle their legs to give Shiro the space to strip. Shiro sighs out as his cock slips free. 

It makes Keith smile and kiss him deeper, the slide of their mouths slick and sloppy. Shiro tentatively kicks the suit off once it’s by his knees, wriggling, and the movement feels good. Keith slides his hands up the backs of his thighs and squeezes his ass just to feel it, just to give Shiro that spark of feeling, too. 

He breaks the kiss so he can look down, unable to resist the temptation— and Shiro’s dick is as big as he’d imagined it while pressed against him. So pretty, Keith thinks, with its curve to the left and its ruddy cockhead. Keith’s mouth waters and desire pulses through him. 

He whimpers and lurches forward to kiss Shiro sloppily. They kiss until they go breathless together. Shiro rocks against him, naked and hard, until they’re panting and Shiro’s pawing at Keith’s under-suit until he strips down, too. It’s easy to slip out of it, wriggling free and kicking it away so that he’s an arched naked line against Shiro’s warm body. 

And Keith _wants._

Maybe he shouldn’t. He doesn’t know. It doesn’t really matter to him now, not when he can have Shiro like this. 

Shiro slides his thigh between Keith’s legs and Keith makes a soft sound and grinds down, rutting his hips forward. His cock slicks against Shiro’s thigh and it makes them both gasp. Keith breaks the kiss so he can look down again, watching the way they move. 

“Does it feel good, Shiro?” Keith asks, panting. 

“Yeah,” Shiro croaks, his hand flexing against Keith’s thigh. Keith feels triumphant as the single word washes over him. 

“I’m the only one who can help you like this, right?” Keith asks, chest heaving.

“Only you, Keith.” 

Keith beams, hair falling in his eyes, his cheeks flushed warm. His cock gives a happy twitch against Shiro’s thigh and he chases that friction. 

This is all for Shiro. It’s about making Shiro feel good, feel present. It’s about bringing him back into his body with someone he loves and trusts. 

And maybe it’s for Keith, too. Maybe he needs to feel that Shiro is here, that he’s alive, that they’re here together. Maybe they both just need to be touched. 

It's just kissing. It’s okay. 

He kisses his brother as they move together. Shiro moans, moving to meet Keith as Keith writhes against him. 

Shiro’s moan grows louder as Keith picks up the pace. Shiro’s thigh lurches up, pressing hard between Keith’s legs. 

“W- what about you?” Keith asks, whining. He squirms. He hesitates, his hand on Shiro’s stomach. It’d be so easy to slip down and grip Shiro’s cock, to fuck his hand over him, to bring him over the edge. Maybe coming would help him feel centered. 

He wants, so badly, to grip his fingers around his brother’s cock. He just needs the permission. 

“Me?” Shiro asks.

“You can take what you want,” Keith says, offering. “I can help you. Let me help you, Shiro.”

“Keith—” 

Shiro chokes as Keith licks his mouth and then licks past his lips, kissing him in a slow and dirty grind. His cock twitches against Shiro’s thigh. He wants so much. It feels so good. The friction is so distracting, but Keith never wants to stop. 

Keith bites down on Shiro’s lip, his heart in his throat. Shiro’s hand clenches his hip tight, and then tentatively slides back to grip Keith’s ass. It makes Keith gasp, back arching. 

Shiro breaks the kiss quickly, letting him go. “Sorry—” 

“No,” Keith says, hushed. “No, I— that was nice. You can, um, do it again.” 

Shiro hesitates all the same, looking conflicted. But he takes a steadying breath and slides his hand back to Keith’s ass, palming him and pulling him in. His fingers are so big, a brand against Keith’s skin. It’d be so easy, Keith thinks, for Shiro to slip his fingers lower, to dart them between his cheeks. The thought makes him moan. 

“Please,” Keith sighs. He rocks against Shiro, shifting so that he’s sliding against Shiro’s cock rather than his thigh. That first spark of friction of their cocks together is nearly too much. Keith gives a low whimper. “Fuck.” 

He doesn’t think his heart will ever stop thundering. He feels like a storm itself, full to bursting and far too powerful. He’s swept up in it and he never wants to come back down again.

“Shiro,” Keith says, moaning as he moves. He’s so near to the edge. He’s sure he’s about to come. He’s chasing it, desperate for it. 

He’s glad it’s Shiro. 

“I’m close,” Keith gasps, rocking his body against Shiro’s. 

Shiro makes a punched-out sound, wondering and unearthed. “Keith,” he says in a whisper. “Fuck. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees, relentless as he rocks his hips down. “Please—” 

“Go on, Keith.”

The encouragement is soft and his voice still so wondering. His hand moves to cover Keith’s cock. His hand, his cock— everything about him is so _big._ The casual way Shiro engulfs his hand makes Keith gasp, stuttering forward until he’s fucking hard into Shiro’s fist. Keith slides against it, moaning at the sensation.

He gives a little cry when he hits his peak, coming across Shiro’s fingers. He shudders through it, nearly overwhelmed. His mind spins as he moans Shiro’s name, head tipped forward as he ruts. 

Shiro groans low in his throat, squeezing his hand around Keith’s cock and stroking him through it, slicking his hand and stomach up with Keith’s come. 

Keith whimpers and tips forward, kissing Shiro, his hands in his hair. He writhes against his brother’s hand, thrilling at that feeling of wetness slipping between them. 

He expects to crash after he comes. Sometimes that happens, when he does it for himself. Whenever he gets off, squeezing his own cock, imagining a big man pushing him down, someone larger than him but with kind eyes, he always feels empty afterwards, panting to the ceiling and irrevocably alone.

Not now, though. He’s not alone and his body and his heart know it. He sinks against Shiro, nuzzling against his shoulder and letting out the softest keen. He presses kiss after kiss against Shiro’s feverish skin, mewling sweetly. 

Shiro drops a kiss to the top of his head and murmurs his name. It’s so unbearably sweet that, for a moment, all Keith wants to do is sink into Shiro and cry. Tears spring up at the corners of his eyes before he dashes them away with a few solid blinks. 

They lie like that, unmoving at first. Sensation returns to Keith in small waves, cresting over him. The rise and fall of their chests, the cling of sweat at his brow, the feeling of Shiro’s hand cupping his ass. Every point is a sensation and he wants to chase it. 

Keith whimpers, kissing Shiro’s neck. It’s not much more than just a drag of his chapped lips against his skin, but he feels how Shiro’s breath goes quicker for it. So Keith keeps doing it, letting Shiro focus on that sensation. 

He’s safe here. 

And Shiro’s still hard. Keith stares at his cock for a long moment, admiring the pretty curve of it, how thick and huge it is. It looks so good between them and suddenly it feels too impossible not to touch him. 

“Keith?” Shiro says, his voice threadbare and husked out. 

Keith licks his lips, making his decision. 

“I want you closer,” Keith says. He leans away and grabs at Shiro’s shoulders. 

“Oh—” Shiro gasps, surprised.

“Don’t you want it, too?” 

“Keith,” Shiro says, voice hushed. His eyes are wide, his lips parted. 

When Keith leans in to kiss him, he only sighs Keith’s name. Keith strokes his fingers over his brother’s stomach, playing with the come he painted there. It feels sticky beneath his fingers and there’s a luxurious thrill in knowing he’s the reason for it, that Shiro’s the one to have made him come. 

He's never felt like this before. 

His slicked fingers reach down to Shiro’s cock. When he touches him, the glide is easy. Shiro’s cock pulses in Keith’s grip, the tip already leaking precome. 

Shiro shudders and rocks up into the tight circle of Keith’s fist. 

“Should we—” Shiro pauses, flushed. “Keith, are you sure—” 

“We should do what feels right,” Keith says. “Does it feel right, Shiro?”

“I—”

“I want to help you. This will help me. Shiro—” He squeezes Shiro’s cock and watches his brother suck in a breath, the way his eyelashes flutter when his eyes shut against the pleasure. “If it feels good, that’s what matters, right?” 

“Keith,” Shiro says. It always sounds so good when Shiro says his name. 

“Come here,” Keith says and tugs. “Take what you want.” 

With Keith’s coaxing, Shiro pushes him onto his back. Keith drags his brother down so that they press together, his legs parting to make space for him to settle there. They grind together like that, Keith oversensitive but addicted to the feeling of Shiro’s cock sliding over his skin. 

But it’s not enough. Not nearly enough. They’ve already done this, Keith thinks, and he needs more. 

Shiro’s cock pulses against him and Keith imagines what it would be like inside him. The thought slams through him then and as soon as it coalesces, he knows it’s a true desire he won’t be able to shake. 

He clutches to Shiro, gasping. “Is this really what you want?” Keith asks. “Don’t you want more, Shiro?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Keith considers, unsure. He knows what he wants, but maybe it’s selfish. He swallows, licking his dry lips. He watches Shiro stare at the movement of his tongue. 

So Keith does it again, slower this time, his body feeling cosmic and molten. Shiro strokes his stomach gently, his fingertips barely brushing. It’s mesmerizing to watch the way Shiro’s eyes trace his mouth, the way his pupils blow wide.

He’s so handsome. And he’s all Keith’s. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Keith says. He pushes Shiro back and Shiro goes, looking pained. But before they can both mourn the distance between them, Keith rolls over. He rocks his hips back so that his ass slides against Shiro’s cock instead.

Shiro gasps and clutches Keith’s hip. 

“My thighs,” Keith says, clenching them together. “You— you should fuck them.” 

“Keith—”

“It’ll feel good,” Keith promises. He rolls his hip up against Shiro’s palm. “It’ll help you.” 

Shiro’s teeth dig hard into his bottom lip, his face flushed. He squeezes Keith’s hip hard enough to bruise. It’s perfect. 

“But it’s…” Shiro begins but trails off when the words don’t come to him.

Keith reaches back, fingers ghosting over Shiro’s thick cock. He strokes it a few times, imagining just getting Shiro off like this. He could come across his ass and the backs of his thighs, make him sticky and wet. Mark him. Possess him. Property of his big brother. 

Fuck, Keith would love that.

But he stays the course. He clenches his thighs together and guides Shiro’s cock between them. He slicks the way with his come and focuses on that blissful glide of his own come across his thighs, easing the way for Shiro.

“Like this,” Keith pants. “This is okay, right?” He wriggles his hips back. “It’s just… we’ve basically already done this, so this isn’t a big deal.” 

Shiro nods in a jerky little movement, trembling. It feels good to be spooned up to him like this, Shiro’s cock tucked between his thighs, the two of them molded together. 

Shiro wraps his arm around Keith’s waist, hand flat on his belly. 

“Move,” Keith prompts in a soft whisper. “It’s okay. Please, move.” 

And so Shiro does. 

Shiro rocks forward, slipping between Keith’s clenched thighs. Keith moans at the thrust of it, at the drag and friction, how Shiro slides against the back of his balls and peeks out beneath his own cock. Shiro’s so much bigger, so much thicker, and it feels so good. 

Keith whips his hand back to grip Shiro’s hip, not guiding but just shifting and flexing together, sinking into that beautiful strength as Shiro moves. He’s perfect. 

“Is this helping?” Keith pants. 

Shiro nods and buries his face against Keith’s shoulder as they writhe together. “Keith,” he whispers, sounding so punched out. “You feel so good.” 

Keith purrs in triumph, the sound surprising him. But the words are what he wanted to hear and he glows at the praise. He moves with Shiro, the two of them setting a steady rhythm. Keith lets loose a low mewl deep in his throat. It rises out of him, instinctive and primal. He bites his lip, rocking his ass against Shiro. 

“Keith,” Shiro gasps. 

He’s never felt anything like this before. But it’s good. Too good. He’s already getting hard again from it— Galra stamina, he thinks, or just desire to help Shiro fueling him onward. He could do this for hours, for ages. He could do this until the end of time if it meant making Shiro happy. 

“Focus on me,” Keith murmurs.

“Always,” Shiro says against Keith’s shoulder. “No one else like you, Keith.” 

Keith’s glowing. He’s his own star, warm and molten. The praise fuels him onward, rutting against Shiro. He clenches and loosens his thighs in intervals, quickening the friction for Shiro. It makes Shiro moan, his cock sliding easily between his thighs, peeking out between them. 

Shiro’s hand runs down one of Keith’s legs, just feeling him, and it raises goosebumps in its wake. It’s everything Keith wants. He’s shaking apart, held together only by his desire for Shiro. So many points of contact leave Keith sweating and moaning, writhing back against his brother. 

Shiro’s hand ghosts up his thigh and across his hip, settling at his stomach again. 

“Keith,” Shiro pants behind him. “You’re— you feel so good.”

“So do you. So good, Shiro.” 

_Brother, brother, brother,_ Keith thinks, but somehow despite the desire, the word sits heavy on his tongue. He’s told Shiro for years that he’s his brother, but he’s never called him the title. It doesn’t feel right, somehow, to call him _Brother_ and not _Shiro._

But the desire lodges in his throat. He wants to arch and tilt his head back, sobbing to the ceiling. _Fuck me, brother. Fuck your brother._

The hand on Keith’s belly shifts down, curling around Keith’s cock. Keith cries out his encouragement, jerking his hips up. They move like that. It’s not actually fucking, but it feels like it. Shiro’s cock drags between his legs, against his body. Shiro’s hand clenches around him. 

Keith licks his lips, panting. He tries the word. “B- brother—” 

Shiro’s hips jerk unevenly. With a shaky hand, Keith drops his hand and thumbs at the cockhead, slippery with precome. 

“Make me come,” Keith begs. “Please. Please—” 

Shiro ducks his head and groans, his lips pressed against Keith’s feverish skin. His hand finds Keith’s cock and pumps him without mercy, precise and squeezing. It takes only a few strokes to make Keith come over his stomach and across Shiro’s fingers.

They roll together like that, Shiro following the ripples of Keith’s body, following him through his second orgasm. 

“Y- you too,” Keith gasps, trying to touch Shiro’s cock enough to get him to come.

“Soon,” Shiro says. He’s panting, trembling in a way that suggests that even one little touch will send him over the edge. “Not yet. Just— just want to feel you.”

Keith shudders in Shiro’s steady hold. He gulps down breath, flushed and upheaved. It feels so good. But it’s still not enough. Keith squirms, longing for it. For _more._

“Will you…” Keith whispers and pauses.

“What do you need, Keith?” Shiro asks. He’s quivering behind Keith, barely holding himself together. Keith wonders just how much he wants to come. 

“I— I want to feel you inside me,” Keith says, so quiet like it’s a secret. He’s not ashamed of what he wants, of what he desires. Anyone who looks at Shiro should want him, after all. Keith’s not blind. 

It feels forbidden, maybe, but that just makes Keith want it more. He’s never wanted anything more than this. 

Shiro makes a sound like he’s been slapped. 

“Fuck,” Shiro gasps against his ear. It’s blissful, the huff of a sigh against his skin. Keith feels like he’s on fire. 

It feels so good to be able to do this for Shiro. 

Keith writhes, unclenching his thighs and rolling his hips until Shiro’s cock slides into the cleft of his ass. It tucks in so perfectly, like it was made to fit there. Keith whimpers. 

They rut like that, just like before, all friction and slicking precome guiding them. Keith’s a whimpering mess within moments, shuddering apart, his heart a quivering hummingbird in his chest. He wants to fuck and be fucked. He wants Shiro to be the one to fuck him. 

He feels so desperate. It’s what he needs. He needs to feel Shiro. He needs to know that Shiro is _here_. 

“I can feel you,” Keith moans, sliding his ass against Shiro’s cock. “I… Fuck, I want to feel you more.” 

“Keith,” Shiro says around a moan, threadbare and just as needy as Keith feels. 

He wonders if it might be a Galra tendency, to hyperfocus and turn so desperate. He’s a puddle of desire, just wanting one thing. If his brother doesn’t fuck him now, he thinks he might weep. 

“Please,” Keith moans, finding Shiro’s come-slick fingers and guiding them so they press against his hole. “Please, Shiro—” 

“I don’t know,” Shiro says. “It’s— you’ve already done so much, Keith.” 

“I want more,” Keith says. “Just a little,” Keith says. “We don’t have to do everything.” 

“Keith—” 

“Just… it’ll help, won’t it?” Keith asks, wriggling his hips. “Allura said— she said we need you to get used to all sorts of touch.” He grinds down hard, merciless, hoping to coax even just one of his brother’s fingers inside him. “This counts, doesn’t it?” 

Keith thinks he might be begging. He’s panting, breathless and electric. But it’ll help, he knows it will. He’s willing to do this, anything, for Shiro. Everything for his brother. 

“I want you,” Keith says. “This. Please.” 

“Okay, Keith,” Shiro says, sounding thrilled Keith thinks, Keith hopes. 

Two fingers circle around his hole, smearing him with come. Keith shudders, gasping. 

“Just feel me,” Keith moans as he leans heavily into Shiro’s chest. “Focus on that.” 

Shiro buries his face against Keith’s neck as he strokes his fingers over his hole, not quite teasing but more exploring. Keith’s used to his own fingers touching himself but it’s transcendent to feel Shiro’s broad, thick fingers on him, the gentle rasp of his callused fingertips against where he’s most sensitive. The thought alone’s enough to make him want to come. His spent cock gives a happy twitch between his legs. 

“Go on,” Keith moans. “Feel me, Shiro.” 

Shiro steels himself, swirling his fingers around him. And then, blissfully, he pushes two fingers inside Keith, the path eased by Keith’s own come. 

“Have you done this before?” Shiro asks in a low voice. 

Keith shakes his head. “To myself, but… ah,” he gasps, writhing down when Shiro’s fingers stroke inside him. “Oh, ah… You’re my first.”

That makes Shiro stutter to a stop. He sucks in a sharp gasp. “Keith—”

“It’s okay,” Keith says. “It’s okay, Shiro.” 

“You— you shouldn’t let this be your first time,” Shiro says, looking stricken by the mere thought of it. “Not here.” 

“Here?” Keith asks, barely able to comprehend the words. “Well…” He looks around. Maybe he never imagined losing his virginity in the Black Lion, but it honestly feels appropriate it should be here between the two of them. “Sure… I guess maybe if we’d gotten to go to a beach or a motel room—” 

Shiro makes a scandalized noise. “I wouldn’t take you to a _motel room._ ” 

It makes Keith laugh. Shiro’s mouth twitches with a smile, but his concern overtakes his amusement. It makes for a strange expression— endearing, almost. Sweet. 

“Where would you take me, then?” Keith asks. He grinds back against his brother’s fingers. “A hotel room instead? The castle? Mmm…” He moans as he moves, his body thrumming with desire. “Our old house?” 

Shiro lets out a sound akin to a whimper, gripping Keith tight as they move. “I— I don’t know.”

“You haven’t thought about where you’d take me?” Keith asks. “Where you’d fuck me for the first time?” 

Shiro’s expression splinters, his lips parting. 

“This place is as good as any,” Keith says, fucking back against Shiro’s fingers. “It’s ours.” 

“Maybe not the place, then,” Shiro says. “But— me. Your first time shouldn’t be with me.” 

Keith shakes his head. “Who else but you, Shiro?” 

Shiro says nothing. But his eyes are wide, nearly too full. He looks like he might cry, overwhelmed by the words. 

But it shouldn’t be a surprise to him that Keith is devoted. He’s always been so. 

He’s relentless. He hums and strokes his thumb along the tendon of Shiro’s wrist, fingers curling gently and guiding Shiro to press deeper inside him. He wants to feel him. He wants Shiro to feel him, too. 

“It’s okay,” he says again when Shiro still hesitates. “If it was going to be anyone, I wanted it to be you.” 

“But Keith…” Shiro says and when Keith turns his head, he looks torn. But his eyes are dark. 

Keith laughs, rocking against his fingers and lifting his hand to cup Shiro’s cheek. “Who’d treat me kinder than you, Shiro? You always take such good care of me.” Keith bites his lip, fucking himself on Shiro’s fingers. “You’re such a good brother.” 

Shiro gasps and then moans. Keith tugs him in close and kisses the sound from his lips, licking into his mouth with a pleased mewl as Shiro twists his fingers. 

“The best brother,” Keith whispers, dragging his teeth. “My brother.” 

Shiro whines and fucks his fingers with a brutal stroke. It makes Keith gasp happily, squirming and fucking himself down. 

“Brother,” he says around a hitching sigh. “Fuck me—” 

“You’re a menace,” Shiro gasps, but doesn’t sound angry. Far from it. He slides his fingers free only to add another, spreading him wide. 

Keith keens, his voice a stuttering mewl. “Shiro—!” 

Keith can’t hear anything above the roar of blood in his ears, his heart kicking a beat in his chest. He moans as Shiro sets a steady pace, thrusting his fingers inside Keith. He can feel the hard press of Shiro’s cock. It’s so much like fucking. 

He loses time like that, just breathing whenever Shiro pauses. Shiro presses one kiss against one knob of his spine. Keith curls his fingers tight in the sheets, smooth and without purpose. 

Shiro’s touch is so sure and so clever as he dips inside Keith’s body, working him open. He massages inside Keith, making him loose and pliant. He’s so warm pressed against his back. They feel so warm together. 

But god, Keith wants more. It’s not enough. He wants to be fucked. 

“Fuck,” Keith cries out, voice dripping with desire. “Fuck, I just— I need you to fuck me.” 

“Yeah?” Shiro asks. He almost sounds like he’s teasing. He sounds more confident, maybe, surer of what it is that Keith wants. “Will that help, Keith?” 

“Mm,” Keith says, clawing at the sheets as he rocks his hips back. He can’t believe how big Shiro’s fingers are. He’s sure his cock will be even more. He needs it inside him.

“You want to be full, Keith?” 

“Yes,” Keith gasps. He twists his fingers in the blankets and rocks his hips back. His vision goes blurry. “I want it.” 

Shiro presses an unbearably gentle kiss to the back of Keith’s neck. “You’re sure?” 

“Yes. Fuck, Shiro. _Yes._ ” 

Shiro twists his fingers. 

“Please,” Keith hiccups. “I just— I just—” 

Shiro has mercy on him. He fucks his fingers inside Keith a few more times, spreading him open, playing at his rim. And then, so slowly, those same thick fingers withdraw. 

Before Keith can feel too empty, before he can whimper for the loss, Shiro shifts closer. He settles his cock into the cleft of Keith’s ass. It was there before but now that Keith’s so loose and open, it’s torture. He moans weakly, trembling. 

He's going to get what he wants, he realizes. He bows around his desire, spreading his legs to make space for Shiro’s thick cock against his hole. 

“You deserve more than this,” Shiro says. His cock rests against Keith’s hole. Keith can’t wait to have it inside him.

Keith shakes his head. “I deserve you.” 

Shiro makes a sound then. Keith squirms, settling into his position. He rolls his hips in a slow burst, trying to coax Shiro inside. Trying to convince his brother to simply grab and fuck, to take what he wants, what he needs. 

But Shiro is gentle. He’s always been so. It’s one of the many things Keith loves about him. 

“If you’re worried about this being my first time,” Keith says. “We— it just has to be a little bit.” He pouts as he says it, but he’ll only ever do what Shiro is comfortable with. He’ll never take more than what he’s given. “Just to see how it feels,” Keith says. “Don’t you— don’t you want to feel me, too?” 

“Keith,” Shiro says, nuzzling at the back of Keith’s neck. “ _Yes._ I—” He hiccups a gasp, swallowing back the words. He kisses Keith’s neck again, still so gentle. His cock rubs against Keith’s hole. “Of course I want you,” Shiro says in a soft voice, like he’s betraying a secret. His body sags against Keith’s, curling around him protectively. “You, Keith. Just you.” 

Keith can’t explain what the words do to him. He feels resplendent, like he’s about to burst into a supernova. The spark of pleasure blooms in his gut and radiates outward, something triumphant and possessive. It’s something Galra-primal bursting to life inside him. 

_Just you._

“That’s right,” Keith says. “I’m all yours, Shiro. Just you, too.” 

When Shiro whimpers in response, it’s involuntary. Keith’s the only one who can make his brother sound like this, he thinks. He wears the realization like a crown, proud and overfull. Nobody else can do this for Shiro. Only Keith. 

“Show me,” Keith says, begging. “Show me that I’m— that I only need _you._ That I’m yours.” 

His friend. His brother. _His._

Shiro groans but doesn’t move. 

“It’s okay,” Keith whispers, sensing his hesitation. “Just a little, Shiro. That’s all. That’s okay, isn’t it?” 

Shiro could slip inside him, just a little. Just the cockhead, maybe, pressing the widest part of his cock inside Keith, just to spread him, just to stretch him. It’d feel good, Keith’s sure. He always used to tease himself like that. And he knows it’d help Shiro. A new sensation to focus on, a new sense of touch. Who else could give this to Shiro right now? Who else could Keith trust to take care of his brother? 

“Just a little,” Keith says as Shiro comes nearer. “Just like this, Shiro.” He tilts his head. “Brother,” he whispers. “Give me your cock.” 

Shiro sucks in a breath and lets his cockhead catch against Keith’s hole. It pulls at the rim and then drags past again. The angle isn’t right and Keith suspects Shiro knows it. Testing him. Not quite a tease, but it might as well be torture for the way Keith responds, the groan punching out of him wounded and obscene. 

Keith can’t help but envision what it must look like, how good it would feel if Shiro were to do this when Keith’s hole is a mess of come and lube. Shiro could play with him like that, make a mess of him, just dragging and slapping his cock against Keith’s hole. 

He wants Shiro to use him like that, to play with him like he’s some toy. He wants to be possessed by Shiro, every inch of him marked as his brother’s. 

“Shiro!” 

It’s agony. 

And then it’s bliss as Shiro takes pity on him and stops teasing. He shifts his hips back and, this time, Shiro’s cock catches against his hole and slips in. It’s just the head, just the simplest press together— the quietest way that their bodies can be joined— but it’s _perfect_ , that sense of relief and pleasure almost immediate. Keith shudders and clenches around the crown.

That makes Shiro moan, low and graveled out. “ _Fuck._ ” 

It’s triumphant to have Shiro inside him, even in this little shadow. He wants to take all of Shiro, wants the full, wide, endless thickness of him. This is something only Keith can do for him, something that Shiro can only trust Keith with. They’re connected like that and just the tip of his brother’s cock is enough to leave Keith feeling split open. 

Keith sucks in sharp little gulps of air, his chest heaving, his body trembling with the pleasure and thrill of holding Shiro like this. Maybe Shiro could just slip into him like this and hold still, filling Keith. They could lie like this for hours, just rocking together, just holding each other. 

He can be everything his brother needs. 

But then Shiro pulls out again and Keith gives a low cry. “Wait—” 

“Shh,” Shiro hums and kisses behind Keith’s ear. “You just wanted to feel it, remember?”

“It’s not enough,” Keith says. “Shiro, please—” 

“Alright,” Shiro says, stroking his thick hand over Keith’s trembling thigh. He cups his knee and pulls his leg up, exposing him, making room as Shiro lets go of Keith’s leg in favor of cupping himself and guiding his cockhead back into Keith’s body. 

“Mm,” Keith hums. 

They move like that together. Shiro pushes just enough of himself inside Keith to keep Keith from crying from the loss. It’s barely beyond the tip, but Keith wants more. Shiro sits heavy inside Keith, stretching him wide. But he barely moves, just a little dart forward and a slow drag back. It really is just his cockhead teasing at the rim of Keith’s hole.

Shiro pulls out and rocks back in in short thrusts. He guides his cock to slide over Keith’s skin, teasing at his hole. He makes his cockhead tug at the rim, swirling around it, smearing him with their come and Shiro’s leaking precome. Keith is so slick and wet and he just wants _more_. 

“You’re— you’re _teasing,_ ” Keith whines. 

Shiro kisses his shoulder. “You’re doing so well, Keith. You look so pretty.”

The praise makes Keith glow, but he still whines. But he’s also a man of action. He rolls his body, moving with Shiro, getting a sense of the movements of Shiro’s hips.

And Keith waits. He holds himself steady, just letting Shiro rock forward and back again in those little bursts. 

“Do I feel good?” Keith pants. 

“So good, beautiful,” Shiro says, his hand stroking over Keith’s hip.

Keith smiles to himself as Shiro’s cockhead sinks in. And then Keith rocks his hips back, firm enough to take Shiro’s dick deeper. He moans sweetly at the sensation of it, clenching around him. 

Shiro freezes up in shock, a moan kicking out of him. “Keith—” 

“Yeah,” Keith pants. “That’s what I want. I can’t feel you, Shiro.” 

“Keith, you said—”

“I want to make you come,” Keith moans. “How can you just from this? You need more. So— so you can _use me_ , Shiro. I’m suppose to be helping you.” 

“Is th—” 

“Stop asking me if it’s what I want,” Keith says, voice sharp. 

It makes them stutter to a stop. Keith tilts his head so he can look back at Shiro, hoping his eyes are fierce when he stares into Shiro’s eyes. Shiro stares back, held still, his big hand touching Keith’s shivering body. 

“Obviously I want this,” Keith says, squeezing pointedly around the cock inside him. “Shiro, I want _you._ So fuck me. Just fuck me, Shiro.” He wriggles his hips. “ _Fuck me._ ” 

It’s a demand as much as it’s a whine, but clearly Shiro can’t resist the words. But Shiro’s always been a man of action, has always responded well to commands— and with Keith it’s no different. Shiro moans out, something hitching in his throat. And then he clenches Keith’s hip and starts rocking in earnest.

His movements aren’t little bursts of tiny thrusts, but something deep and molten. When they rock together, it feels cosmic. Shiro well and truly fucks him now, pushing in deep and sliding back out again, nearly to the tip. They’re long, languid strokes that Keith feels with his entire body. 

Keith smiles. It’s what he wanted. It’s what he wants, desperately. He didn’t realize just how badly he wanted it until he had it. And fuck does it feel good— Keith’s breathless with it, panting and moaning, writhing against his brother’s cock. 

“Perfect,” Keith sighs, trembling. “You feel so good. You’re my—” 

Before he can complete the thought, Shiro halts. It’s so abrupt that Keith nearly slips off his cock entirely with his counter-thrust. 

“Stop,” Shiro says, head bowed. 

Keith squirms, twisting around to look at Shiro over his shoulder. “Shiro? What’s wrong?” 

Shiro’s frozen, shuddering once as he looks away. Whatever’s wrong feels abrupt, Shiro still inside him and his eyes flickering away. 

“Fuck. Keith,” he says and sounds like he’s really going to cry. “I _can’t._ ”

“It’s okay—”

“No,” Shiro cuts him off, buried up to the hilt inside Keith, his body draped over him. “Keith, I’m sorry. I can’t. I really. I’m—” 

“Shiro,” Keith says, ice racing through him. “What’s wrong? What’s—” 

Shiro shakes his head, his voice shaky. “I shouldn’t want this.” 

And then, as if to punctuate the point, he slips out from inside of Keith. It’s so abrupt and so hollow that Keith gives the softest cry in the wake of it— Shiro is there and then he’s gone. He feels empty in Shiro’s absence, unsure what to make of the words, but knowing he hates the feeling of Shiro pulling away.

It's the worst feeling in the world, to have Shiro with him only to lose him again. 

They’ve spent too long separated. He twists around instantly, making a small little cry of distress. “Shiro, wait—” 

He reaches for Shiro then, catching him by his arm. 

“If you’re worried because we’re brothers,” Keith says. “It’s okay! I don’t mind. It’s to help you.” He knows he must sound desperate, pleading, his hand clenched tight on Shiro’s arm. “You’re my brother,” Keith says. “I want to help you—”

“I,” Shiro hiccups and shakes his head. “I don’t, Keith.” 

Keith frowns, unsure how to take the words. “What?”

“I don’t think of you as my brother,” Shiro says. He ducks his head. 

Keith thinks he might have said something else, but those first words are all that Keith hears. The pit of his stomach drops away, ice racing through him. He’s trembling now, but not from pleasure. It feels like horror, like the cruelest thing Shiro’s ever said to him.

He said crueler things at the clone facility, but by then Shiro wasn’t himself. Now, though, he is. 

Keith scrambles up into a seated position, barely a breath of separation between him and Shiro. It takes Shiro a longer moment to sit up, too, to situate himself, but he manages it even with Keith’s tight grip on his arm. 

“What do you mean?” Keith asks, his voice pained. _I don’t think of you as my brother._

The words hurt. He never thought to consider how much it would hurt to hear it. Even in all the years since they were together in that little house together, first separated by his father’s death, then Kerberos, now this, he never once considered that enough time would pass that Shiro would stop viewing Keith as a brother to him. He knows that time moves too fast, that everything is running so far away from them. 

But he never once considered that could fade. 

It hurts. For so long, Shiro was the only family he had left. He gives a low whimper, tears springing to his eyes until he ducks his head and swipes the heel of his palm across his face, rubbing all evidence of it away.

Shiro shakes his head, looking distressed, too. He looks like he might start crying, his hand sitting limp in his lap. “You want to help me, but I’m— I’m just taking advantage of you.” 

“What do you _mean_?” Keith gasps, trying to keep his voice steady. “I know we’re only stepbrothers, but—” 

“Keith,” Shiro says, sounding wounded. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” Keith says immediately, looking back up at Shiro. Shiro makes a sound when he sees his expression. Keith blinks rapidly to clear away the unshed tears, his bottom lip wobbling. 

He must look pathetic, naked and crying because of the rejection. 

“Keith—”

“I love you, too,” Keith says, insistent. “And I want to help you. You’re— you’re still my brother to me.” He sniffles then, looking away. “Even if you don’t think of me as that, I’ve— that’s what you are to me.” 

When he glances back at Shiro, the look his brother gives him is ruinous. He looks like he’s been punched straight in the gut. He doesn’t shrug away from Keith’s grip, though, and with how hard Keith’s clenching him, he thinks he can feel him trembling. 

Shiro makes the softest sound. “We don’t… It’s not the same, Keith.” 

“What do you mean?”

Shiro grits his teeth. His eyes flash in the dim light of the Black Lion, glassy and beautiful despite it all. Keith’s always going to get lost in the silver shine of Shiro’s eyes. 

Shiro shifts back further still, like he might leave their bunk entirely, find his clothes and simply disappear, a wisp lost to the cosmos. Keith makes a distressed call and grips him hard by both of his shoulders, his fingers digging in tight.

“Don’t go,” Keith begs. “Please.” 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Shiro says, although he stills beneath Keith’s hold— unable or unwilling to actually leave him. He’s shaking. “It’s not fair to you.” 

“What?”

“I’m— I know you only view me as your brother, but Keith— I. I’m _in_ love with you. And I’m taking advantage of you by doing this.” 

Keith hears the words but he’s not sure he comprehends them. He stares at Shiro in shock. He’s still holding Shiro’s shoulders, a point of contact beneath his palms. He’s still breathing, his lungs filling with air. He’s still looking at Shiro, steady, alive, and present before him. 

_I’m in love with you._

He hears the words, but he doesn’t know what to do with them. 

“Whenever I see you,” Shiro says, voice so soft and so quiet, “all I want to do is hold you. I just want to be with you. Every day I’m away from you is torture.” 

Keith’s brow furrows. He clenches his hands tight around Shiro’s shoulders. “I want that, too,” he says. “That’s how I feel about you, too.” 

Shiro’s brow crinkles as he frowns, the furrow mimicking Keith’s. “It’s different,” he says. “I’m in love with you.” 

“I— I know,” Keith says, blushing. “I mean, I heard.”

He’s fumbling over the words. It sounds far too dismissive and he sees Shiro wilt, his shoulders slumping beneath his palms.

“I mean,” Keith says quickly. “I just… that’s what I feel about you. What you said.” Keith shakes his head, looking up at Shiro with wide eyes. “I just want you with me all the time. I want to always be holding you. I want us to— to do this. What we’re doing. Because it feels good and I trust you. Who else could I give this to but you?” 

Shiro stares at Keith. He seems absolutely stunned by the words.

“This is—” Keith flounders, searching for the words. “This is just… what brothers do, isn’t it? Because we love each other.”

“Keith,” Shiro says, his words slow and uncertain. “This— brothers don’t do this.” 

Keith licks his lips. “I— I know most brothers don’t do this, okay? But we’re special.” He squeezes Shiro’s shoulders. “And this feels good… Being with you— it’s always good, Shiro. Why would I want anyone else but you?” 

Shiro still says nothing, his eyes wide as he stares at Keith. The blush is back again, staining across his cheeks. He really is so, so unspeakably handsome. Keith doesn’t know what he’s done in this universe to deserve a brother like Shiro.

Provided Shiro even wants them to be brothers. The sting of rejection still quivers inside him, ready to poison him fully. 

“ _We_ do this,” Keith insists. “And we’re brothers. So what if we’re not like other brothers? We’re— we’re close. We love each other. That’s what matters.” He slides his hands over Shiro’s shoulders and up his neck, cupping his cheeks. He half expects Shiro to jerk away, but he doesn’t. He holds still, steady in Keith’s touch. 

Keith’s entire world, cupped in his hands. Infinitely precious and cosmically his. Only his. 

Keith knows he belongs to Shiro, fully and completely. That will never change, no matter what Shiro says here and now. That will never change. 

“I said it before,” Keith says. “If it feels good and we both want it… I- if we both love each other, what does it matter?” 

Shiro just looks perplexed now. He looks ruined, eyes wide, his hair swept and clinging to his forehead. His cheeks are such a pretty pink. _He’s_ pretty. 

“I—” Shiro starts and then stops. He’s quiet for so long that Keith wonders if he’s actually going to speak. Keith bites his lip, his thumbs stroking over Shiro’s cheekbones— an anchoring touch, he hopes. Even now, all he wants to do is help Shiro. 

He feels so empty without him. 

“You— you really want to do all this?” Shiro asks. “You’re not just— doing what you think I want?” 

“What?” Keith asks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shiro looks down. “I’ve— Keith.” 

“Tell me.”

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Shiro says in a soft voice, shoulders hunching. He looks down, but can’t manage to duck his head without dislodging Keith’s hands, and it seems neither of them are content to stop touching, despite it all. “And you just… want to help me. You’re doing all this just to help me.”

Keith makes a sound. He knows he’s said as much tonight— that if it feels good, that if it helps Shiro, that’s what matters. 

“You think I’m not enjoying any of this?” Keith asks. “That’s stupid.” 

It’s blunt enough that, despite his clear distress, Shiro manages the softest chuff of a laugh. Disbelieving, threadbare, but still there all the same. Keith will count that as a win. 

“I want to do this, Shiro. I want to help you, yes,” he agrees when Shiro opens his mouth to answer “But… this helps me, too. It’s… I want to be a good brother.” 

Shiro still looks like he’s been punched in the face. He opens his mouth and shuts it again. At least this time he isn’t trying to pull away from Keith. 

The silence stretches between them. But it seems Keith’s robbed Shiro of words. 

“M- maybe it’s not so simple as if you’re my brother or not,” Keith finally says. “But I know what I want. And I know that’s you.” 

“Keith…” 

“You’re not taking advantage of me,” Keith says, insistent. “You’re not taking anything I’m not willing to give you. That I _want_ to give you. I want to feel this. I want to feel you, Shiro. You’re my brother and I love you.” He watches the flush brighten on Shiro’s cheeks as he says that. “My only brother. The only person who matters… who else would I want to fuck but you?”

Shiro shakes his head, not dismissing Keith’s words but looking shellshocked still. “I—” He blushes. Tentatively, his hand lifts to cover one of Keith’s, pressing his palm back against his cheek. “I wouldn’t do this with anyone else but you, either.” 

_Only you,_ he’d said before, the triumphant Galra instinct inside him singing. It returns now, although quieter. A surety. He’s Shiro’s. And Shiro is his. 

Keith remembers when they used to say these things to each other, too. He remembers the last time Shiro ever visited their home, two weeks before Keith’s dad died while on the job and he lost his brother forever— his stepmom never could get custody of Keith, after all, although Keith thinks she tried. Keith just disappeared after that, fearing he’d never find Shiro again.

But he remembers that last night, two weeks before everything crashed down around them. They didn’t know at the time it was their last night. But Shiro had smiled at him, holding his hands, their fingers tangled together. Keith had felt like he was glowing then, like all the stars in the sky combined. 

_I’m glad I’m your brother,_ Shiro told him that night. _I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my brother._

Keith held those words within himself, even through his darkest moments. Shiro finding him again, saving him, bringing him to the Garrison— that felt so much like their promise fulfilled. That no matter how far away, they find each other. Like brothers do. 

Keith catches Shiro’s hand now, just like then. He tangles their fingers together, interlacing them and squeezing tight. Shiro’s palm is still so big. Keith is so small in comparison but they’re connected. Protected. 

“Keith,” Shiro says in a low murmur and Keith wonders if he remembers that night, too. 

“So… if we wouldn’t do it with anyone else,” Keith says. “Why stop? If it feels good—” 

“Keith,” Shiro says quietly.

“If we both like it and it feels good— that’s what matters,” Keith says. “So what if we’re brothers?” 

Shiro shudders again, his breath coming in quick and his cheeks flushing at the word. Keith blinks at the reaction, noting it again. He licks his lips. Maybe it isn’t that Shiro dislikes being his brother after all, he thinks. Maybe he was right: it isn’t quite so simple as whether they are or aren’t. 

Maybe none of that really matters. If he loves Shiro and Shiro loves him, what else is there? 

“Keith…” Shiro says again, like Keith’s name is salvation, like it’s the only word he knows to say. He sighs, tucking in, tugging on their hands to draw Keith to him. “I— I do want you.”

“And I want you,” Keith agrees. 

It’s so much more powerful to have Shiro before him like this, to be looking at him. He crawls closer, shifting across the bunk and settling into Shiro’s space. It’s easy to move in and to climb into Shiro’s lap.

Shiro is there to guide him, his hand tight in Keith’s as he holds him steady, letting Keith settle and straddle him. Their erections have flagged but like this, Keith thinks that maybe they can still salvage the moment. 

Keith presses a gentle kiss to Shiro’s lips, quieter and sweeter than before, like those first few pecks. Innocent. Tentative. He pours every curl of love inside him into that kiss. 

He draws back quickly, studying Shiro’s face to make sure that it’s still a welcomed touch. But Shiro’s expression is gentle, somehow hopeful. It’s its presence now that makes Keith aware of its absence before— the longing that etched across Shiro’s face as they moved together then. This is a calmer look, hopeful and almost serene.

“Is this okay?” Keith asks. He lifts his free hand, tracing his fingers along Shiro’s jaw and his mouth again. “Not… not just for touch. Just because we can. Is that what you want, Shiro?”

“Is that what you want?” Shiro asks back. 

Keith squeezes his hand and laughs, delirious and overwhelmed. “With all my heart.” 

Shiro’s mouth twitches, a hopeful little smile plucking at the corner. “Me too, Keith.” He inhales slowly and lets his breath out again in a slump. “I… I want you.” 

“And you can have me,” Keith says. He wriggles his hips, squirming in Shiro’s lap. “I’m doing this because I want to. I’m offering.” 

“Okay,” Shiro says. 

“Trust me.”

“I do.” Shiro swallows, his eyes shiny. “With everything I am, Keith.” 

Time flows between them like that. They move together in slow rolls, taking the time needed to get hard again after the interruption. There’s something like expectation between them, but it feels better like this— rather than lying on his side and facing away from Shiro, he can watch every ripple of pleasure waver across his face. He can watch the blush climb, feel the soft hush of him.

Mostly, though, it means he can kiss him. He does, slanting his mouth with Shiro’s gently as they move, as Keith curls his hand around them both and strokes them to hardness again. 

It’s simple after that for Keith to rise up onto his knees, his free hand finding Shiro’s cock and stroking it a few times before guiding it back to his hole. It’s easier still to slip it inside him, sinking down the full, hard length of his cock and settling in Shiro’s lap. 

Shiro moans when Keith does that, his cock plunging deep. 

“Now that this is all settled,” Keith says, moaning, “would you fuck your baby brother already?” 

Shiro shudders and fucks forward hard, losing all sense of his pace. “ _Keith._ ” 

“Yeah?” Keith pants, rocking his hips forcefully now. “I think you like the idea, Shiro. You like fucking your brother, don’t you?” 

“You said baby—” 

“— brother, yeah,” Keith agrees. “Fuck me.”

“Baby,” Shiro says as he moves his hips. The soft bliss of his voice makes Keith shudder.

“Oh,” he says back, wispy and threadbare. “Y- yeah. I like that.” 

“Baby,” Shiro says again, more purposeful now as he rolls his hips. He squeezes Keith’s hand hard, a centering point. Keith’s sure that Shiro misses having the other hand simply for the touch its absence denies him. “Going to fuck you good, baby.” 

“Please,” Keith says, shivering. 

Shiro inches closer to him, setting a languid pace, nothing like their frenzy from earlier. His hold is gentle around Keith, as he always is with Keith. He always treats Keith like he’s precious. 

Shiro meets his eyes, unwavering. Quietly, he says, “I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” Keith says, glowing warm in his chest. Maybe it’s not the same kind of love he thought it was. Maybe it is. It doesn’t matter. They love each other. 

And he’s never going to lose Shiro again. 

Shiro fucks into him and Keith sighs, rocking down to meet him, leaning forward against Shiro’s chest. His thighs burn with the pleasure of the movements, of holding himself up and dropping back down onto Shiro’s thick cock. It feels too good. He wants Shiro’s cock inside him always, wants to always feel this. He wants Shiro to come inside him again and again. He wants to be full and dripping from his brother’s come and always feel him moving like this.

When Keith lets go of his hand, it’s only so he can curl both arms around Shiro’s neck, clenching tight. It frees Shiro’s hand to skate up his belly and settle on his chest, over his beating heart. 

Keith moans out Shiro’s name, dipping his head up. Shiro presses a tentative kiss to his throat, and then a few more when Keith keens blissfully at the touch.

It almost makes Keith want to laugh, the thought that Shiro can get off to the fact that they’re brothers. It’s almost sweet, that even through it all, all they want is to be closer— to be closer than anyone else. 

And they are. 

Keith tangles his fingers around Shiro’s again, that absence unbearable still, and maybe the simple act of holding hands is enough to make Shiro cry out, every point of contact almost overwhelming. Keith feels like he might burst apart. He feels electrified. He’s never been touched this much, so intimately. 

He can only trust this to Shiro. 

“Shiro,” Keith cries out, clenching around Shiro’s cock and rolling his hips down. “Come— please, just come inside me!” 

“I’m almost there,” Shiro promises, rocking against him. “You’re so good, Keith. So good for me, baby. Perfect. Baby boy— Keith. You’re beautiful.”

“Fuck,” Keith says. Somehow, ridiculously, tears spring up at the corners of his eyes.

Shiro kisses his cheek and nuzzles at his jaw, whispering his name. He squeezes Keith’s hand. His cock is so big and so thick inside him. His hand is so big around Keith’s fingers. His body presses against Keith, engulfing him. All around him, it’s Shiro, the person he trusts and loves most in the universe.

Shiro moves faster, jerkier, getting closer to his edge. Keith eggs him on, brings him there. 

“Fuck me,” Keith pleads. “Fuck me, fuck your brother—” 

And Shiro groans, ducks his head, and stutters to a halt as he comes. It fills inside Keith and it makes him shudder, crying out with an arch. 

Shiro empties inside him, shuddering beneath him as he fucks inside Keith, making his hole utterly filthy with his come. Keith wants him to stay there, wants him to go limp inside him so he can coax him back to hardness. So Shiro can fuck him again and again. 

He untangles his fingers from Shiro’s so he can reach his hand up and pet through Shiro’s hair, whimpering when Shiro presses a sloppy kiss against his neck. 

“Shiro,” he says. 

“I’m here, baby,” Shiro says, voice soft as a promise. 

“Don’t pull out.” 

Shiro groans and nods, kissing Keith’s shoulder next. They sit like that, quiet, panting, until Shiro drops his hand down and curls around Keith’s cock, fucking him until Keith comes for the third time, crying out weakly. Their bellies are slick with Keith’s come once Shiro draws his hand back. 

He slumps forward against Shiro once he comes back down, purring low in his throat. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Shiro says. “I don’t deserve you.” 

“Shut up,” Keith says. “Of course you do.” 

It makes Shiro laugh, soft and wispy. He kisses Keith’s shoulder again, nuzzling. “… I really do love you, you know.” 

“Mm,” Keith whimpers, his heart soaring into his throat. “Yeah,” he says, voice choking up. “Yeah, Shiro.” 

He lifts his head and accepts the kiss Shiro presses to his mouth, light and almost innocent in comparison to everything they’ve just done.

“Did this help?” Keith asks once they part. “I— how do you feel?”

“Fucked out,” Shiro says and laughs softly. He looks happier now, lighter. Keith’s grateful for that much, at least. “But, seriously… good, Keith. I— I feel like I’m in my body.”

“Good,” Keith says, relaxing. 

“Thank you,” Shiro says. “You’re always saving me.” 

“You saved me first,” Keith says. He wants to get closer, but he doesn’t want Shiro to slip out. He settles for cupping Shiro’s face and kissing him again and again. 

“We saved each other,” Shiro reminds him and it makes Keith laugh. He bites his lip in retaliation. 

“That’s what brothers do,” Keith says and Shiro shivers again at the title. He kisses Shiro’s nose. “Sorry it feels weird to just call you ‘Brother’. Otherwise I’d do it all the time.” 

“You could anyway,” Shiro says. “If you wanted. I— I wouldn’t mind, I guess.”

“Alright, brother,” Keith says and they both laugh. 

They let the words settle between them, quiet and serene. 

“So,” Keith says after that pause, hand on Shiro’s face. He focuses on rubbing his thumb across Shiro’s lip rather than look up and meet his eyes. He blushes. “So, um. I know I love you. But… you know. Maybe it’s not— quite what I thought.” 

If he’s honest, he couldn’t begin to untangle his feelings, where brotherly love might stop, and another love begin. All he knows is that he loves Shiro. Maybe that’s all that matters. 

He plans on being with Shiro forever, regardless. Maybe that’s all he needs. 

“You’re right that we’re not quite like other people,” Shiro says, voice soft as it wisps against Keith’s fingertips. Keith feels as much as he sees Shiro smile. “And that’s okay.” 

“You don’t think I’m weird?” 

“I definitely think you’re weird,” Shiro teases. “But I am, too.” 

Keith pouts. It makes Shiro smile again and lean in, kissing him gently. 

“And I love you,” Shiro says quietly. 

Keith nods his head, feeling, ridiculously, like he might cry all over again. They saved each other. They’re here. Shiro is all around him, buried inside him, so intrinsically linked to him that they’ll never be parted again. 

“I love you, too.” 

Shiro smiles at him, sweet and gentle. Keith smiles back— and leans in to kiss his brother again, just because he can. Just because he wants to.

**Author's Note:**

>  **(Mildly) Dubious Consent:** This fic is Keith's POV and he's consenting, but Shiro hesitates because he thinks he's taking advantage of Keith, but proceeds at Keith's reassurance. By contrast, because it is Keith's POV, Shiro's thoughts are obscured until the end of the fic, so his actions could be read as dubcon (with Keith convincing him to keep going). 
> 
> -
> 
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